


To my first and last: "Hi"

by zeccoraa



Category: Original Work
Genre: Absent Parents, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dialogue Light, F/M, First Love, High School, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Original Fiction, POV Third Person, School, Short One Shot, Single POV, Single Parents, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeccoraa/pseuds/zeccoraa
Summary: The beginning of letting go





	To my first and last: "Hi"

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think anyone would want to read this or, rather, search this up even. So if you're here reading this, then I can safely say you're drunk and I have got no idea how you wound up reading this piece of shit full of something I got inspired by Day6's HiHello and Levi's POV in AOT named No Regrets. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and have a great day ahead!

To my first and last: "Hi" 

Morning dawns over the city in a somewhat, peaceful manner; it's golden glow filtering through the frosted window pane as it bathes her skin with its warmth. Her eyes crack open as a ray of sunlight shines off her gray irises. Squinting, she shields her face from the harsh glare and sits up on her bed, blinking the grogginess away. Her gaze wanders over to an eventful calendar covered with post-its, multi-coloured pen ink and a different special occasion on every single date. Her eyes finally land on the 15th, circled repeatedly in purple and captioned 'D-day' in full upper-case blocks, ending in a trail of exclamation marks. It almost screams enthusiasm. Almost.

Her features shift slightly in a small realisation that _that_ morning was 'D-day'. Her eyes widen by a fraction, only momentarily, until they return to their usual monochromatic gray, yet still radiating so much life. She pushes her pillows off her body and swings her legs over the bed, her feet landing on the soft fibre carpet by her bedside. Stumbling around for her hairbrush, she moves to grab a charcoal grey bathrobe instead after many failed attempts at finding the comb, and heads to the shower. 

The water that gushes out of the shower head is frighteningly cold that morning. She jerks her body away from the freezing water and while doing so, nearly tripping over the shower curb. A string of curses escapes her lips. Which omnipotent who decided to make her heart run a mile a minute – during the ass crack of dawn, mind you – would've been very displeased with all that… _colourful_ , vocabulary.

_So much for a perfect morning._

Pushing the bathroom door ajar slightly, her fingers find their way to the water heater switch, which she pushes down with a click. It's wet and all, but for her, honestly? Shits given? None whatsoever about the risk of touching switches with wet hands. Her mom's not there to lecture her since she's probably away on a business trip which, unsurprisingly, she doesn't care about. All she knows is that she'll be back tomorrow morning to whisk her towards somewhere far and… just, _away_ from here. As always. Moving from place to place with no definite touch-down for 'home'. Whatever that means. 

The warm water that hits her skin pulls her away from thoughts of the more, dreaded future. After a nice shower, her hand swipes across the fogged up mirror as she stares at the reflection for a while. She's broken out of her stream of thoughts by a nagging sense that she's running on time and there's school. She hurriedly swipes her bathrobe from its hook and wraps it around her body, bracing herself for the morning air that always fails to be warm. 

And _fails_ it does, as a shiver runs up her spine. Though, she'll never admit to being sensitive to the cold. Drying herself off, she throws on a slightly rumpled uniform; a slate-gray skirt with a white shirt. She skillfully ties her hair using a black hair band, into a small black ponytail and fixes on a matching gray tie. Or rather, tries to. Her and ties? They don't go well together and that's final.

The full length mirror on her bedroom wall is her most favourite spot. She recalls spending a lot of time standing there thinking about matters and here she is now pinning on her name tag while thinking about the moment being her last morning preparing to go to _this_ school in _this_ neighbourhood and in _this_ country. It's never been a surprise to her when her mom just suddenly announced that they were moving to another whole city, another whole country on many different occasions in the span of her 17 years. But this time, it's… a bit _different_. She's not ready to move again. There's something that keeps her rooted to this place that she's unwilling to let go of. 

Sighing, she heaves her school bag and swings it over her shoulders as she makes a move towards her not-so-clean school shoes. She unlocks the apartment door with her keys, closes it, and then plugs in her airpods into her ears. It's simply a farce though – there's no music playing, it's just that she doesn't see the need to have social interaction so early in the morning, and people tend to avoid talking to someone who supposedly looks like they're listening to music.

The bus ride to her school seems longer than usual. Her mind drifts away to her plans for the day. For ' _D-day_ '. She knows that she realised, a little too late, that a certain black-haired male was the reason why she felt compelled to stay in this country. And she still feels that way, but she plans for that feeling to end. And how? All she needs is a moment, and one moment alone, with him. She's never had anyone to talk to in school, no friends, maybe some occasional acquaintances. In her younger years, every single place felt _lonely_ since she changed schools so frequently; she'd see a new classroom, a new face, a new school and finally, her friends simply got tired of trying to keep in touch with someone who kept changing addresses. She doesn't blame anyone and she's even grown apathetic to social interaction so she sees no need to make friends when they're only temporary. It's simply a waste of time.

So then _why_ does she feel the need to talk to _him_? She almost thought she got away with her two-year streak of not starting another temporary relationship with someone who won't spare a second glance towards her but, lo and behold here she is.

_Here she is._

The sound of the bus tires screeching to a halt breaks her out of her reverie as she realises that she's arrived. Whipping out her card, she taps it against the scanner followed by a beep and then scrambles out of the bus, taking two steps at a time, before the driver has to wait for her any longer. The bus drives off behind her while she strides past the metal school gate and towards the classroom blocks. It's still quite empty except for some tiny clusters of students in each classroom. She doesn't head inside any of the classrooms though. Instead, she climbs up the stairs all the way to the top until she comes across a door.

A label reads: _'no entry, only authorised personnel'_. Not that she cares.

Her hand rests against the door handle. She knows what lays on the other side. She knows who will be there every morning, chilling out to some music to escape from all his fangirls. She knows it would be rude to interrupt his only time in the day that he gets to spend for himself instead of being trapped in a swarm of cards and chocolates and _'I love you'_ s from his very own fanbase. She almost considers backing out from whatever she plans on doing because she's scared. She knows that whatever conversation they'd share together here today would be forgotten by the following morning. They'll meet as strangers, and they'll part as strangers, and that's all that takes for her to break a little, but she's gotten this far and there's no use in going back down now. She'll leave this damn country, alright. She'll leave with _no regrets_. 

With a breath, her hand pushes down on the handle and yanks the door open, revealing the school rooftop and she walks slowly, past the doorway, until she hears something shift behind her. Then followed by a deep voice coming from above the doorway,

"Now, who the heck are you…?" 

Her breath is caught in her throat, she braces herself. She thinks, _a simple greeting, and then we'll leave whatever happens after to fate's hands._

Slowly but surely, she turns around, her hand coming up to remove her airpods from her ears as her head tilts upwards to face the owner of the voice. The morning light shines and she has to squint for a moment before her vision returns slowly – his features revealed one by one from the wisps of his hair all the way down to where he lays cross-legged and staring down at her expectantly. 

_No regrets._ And so, she manages to crack a small smile, out of happiness, out of excitement, out of fear, and out of hope. 

Warm gray eyes meet cold, steel-blue ones.

And then, almost shyly,

"Hi."


End file.
